


Post-Coital

by ddagent



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Coital, Romance, Sex, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Their first time wasn't supposed to be like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RighteousNerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RighteousNerd/gifts).



> This is for my partner righteousnerd, who prompted me: "Imagine your OTP lying next to each other in bed, staring at the ceiling, embarrassed and slightly alarmed by the wild, intense, filthy sex they just had." This is my penalty fic, and I do believe it covers all that I owe. Hope you enjoy!

He couldn’t breathe. _He couldn’t breathe._

Phil swallowed, gasping desperately for air. His fingers tightened around the bed sheets underneath him, desperate for an anchor. Blood pounded in his ears; his body pulsing as endorphins flooded his system. _Fuck._ Twisting to his right, Phil looked to see how his partner was faring. Melinda’s fingers were clutching her pillowcase; teeth buried in her bottom lip as she came down from her orgasm. Her skin was slick with sweat, and Phil buried the urge to lick the drops from her skin. As he sucked in another breath, Melinda finally lifted her head.

“That was…”

He nodded, unable to put what had just happened into words. “Yeah. That _was_.”

Phil turned from Melinda, fixing his gaze upon the water stain on the ceiling. His breathing had finally slowed, and he felt his skin pucker in the cool room. The bedsheets had been kicked half off the bed, and the rest were tangled at the soles of their feet. Modesty hadn’t seemed a necessity in the moment. _Taking it slow_ had not been a consideration either. Lifting his head, Phil could spot the trail of their need; their desire for the other. Melinda’s pants were in a pool by the door. They hadn’t made it two steps inside before she had been rendered half naked. Two buttons from his shirt, torn in the haste to remove his clothing, twinkled in the light. Melinda’s bra hung over her chair.

On the bedside dresser, right beside the lamp he’d broken, were Melinda’s panties. Phil lifted them up, unsurprised by the torn fabric. Beside him, a soft chuckle echoed. “You owe me a new pair of panties, Coulson.”

“So I do.”

They were gently pulled from his fingers, Melinda tossing them onto the pile of discarded clothing. Phil watched as she slid off the bed, heading for the small cooler where she kept her stash of water. He watched her, completely hypnotised. But before she returned, Phil tugged the sheets up over his naked form. In the moment, the scars and marks littering his body had seemed trivial. In their post-coital aftermath, Phil felt the need to hide himself away.  

“You cold?” Melinda asked, sipping from a bottle of water. “I could turn the heater on.”

Phil shook his head. “I’m fine. Are you…are you cold?”

“No.”

The hard point of her nipples told him otherwise. But as Melinda crawled into bed beside him, Phil wondered if arousal was the real culprit. His partner didn’t seem concerned about what had just transpired. In fact, as Melinda wetted her bottom lip, Phil would almost swear that she wanted to do it all over again.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Phil? Did you want some water?”

He nodded, reaching for the bottle. He took a gulp, not realising how dry his mouth had become. “Thank you. I’m a little thirsty.”

Melinda smirked. “We worked up quite a sweat.”

“Yes we did.”

As he took another sip of water, Phil tried to reboot his brain after spending the afternoon not doing inventory reports, but rather doing Melinda May. He’d knocked on her door with the intention of asking her to dinner. They’d both been dancing around their flirtation for a while, and Phil had finally decided to make his move. He had the restaurant planned; even had a second date idea in mind. _Sex,_ whilst a long time fantasy of his, was something he’d seen in their future once they’d reacquainted themselves with the other in a romantic light. But Melinda had barely agreed to dinner before they were ripping each other’s clothes off.     

It had been wild; almost animalistic. At one point, he was _sure_ he’d heard the bedframe actually _groan._ As Phil glanced up, he could see the splinters in the wood. “Wow.”

Melinda caught his gaze, observing the cracks in her old bedframe where his prosthetic hand had squeezed the wood too hard. She smirked as her fingertips explored the cracks and splinters. “We broke the bed.”

“We broke the bed.” Phil felt the sheets slide down his torso as he, too, examined the bed frame. _Shit._ “I’ll buy you a new one, May, I promise.”

“Don’t bother. I like it.” She caught his gaze. “Looks like we both did some damage.”

Melinda reached over, her hand caressing his spine. Suddenly he was aware of the welts on his back, the reminder of Melinda’s fingernails scoring his skin in a moment of passion. He could feel where her teeth had buried themselves across his throat. There were half-moon marks across his thighs where she’d held him in place as she’d taken him into her mouth. Melinda’s hands, delicate and careful, caressed every mark she’d left. Her thumb finished her journey, brushing against his swollen lips.

“Melinda…”

Her lips grazed his. “Your turn.”

It wasn’t just the bed he’d broken. In the dim light of Melinda’s bedroom, a set of finger shaped bruises on her hip seemed to _burn._ He touched her softly with his other hand, wanting to kiss away the marks. But Melinda didn’t flinch. She _keened._ He continued the path he’d left; caressing the red welt on the underside of her breast where his teeth had nipped at her skin. He’d been unable to control himself. The things she was doing, the _words_ she was saying…he’d needed her in a way he’d never needed anything before.

“I’d thought we could wait,” Phil said, hand cupping her breast as his fingers brushed her erect nipple. “Wait until we had sex. So we were both ready for the emotional ramifications.”

Melinda snorted, her fingertips already teasing the nape of his neck. “Instead we _fucked._ ”

Phil had imagined candles; a bottle of champagne. Maybe even a hotel room where they couldn’t be disturbed. Instead they’d fucked in Melinda’s room at the Playground, both unable and unwilling to keep the noise down. Phil has tossed her on the bed, ate her out whilst Melinda gripped the now broken headboard. They’d fucked from behind, too, Phil’s hands alternating between Melinda’s hip and her swollen clit. She’d sucked him hard again and suddenly it was round four: Melinda riding him until they were both sated.

“I didn’t think I had it in me anymore,” Phil admitted, stealing a kiss from Melinda’s lips.

She grinned, deepening their kiss. “That’s what happens when you’ve built it up for _twenty five years._ You end up going at it like teenagers.”

Phil smiled, leaning in for another kiss. They would have their chance for candles and champagne. They had plenty of time for those sort of nights. Now that they were together, they had all the time in the world. But for now, Phil wanted to make up for twenty-five years of pent up passion.

“So…round five?”

Melinda didn’t answer. She simply smiled as she pulled him beneath the bedsheets.


End file.
